


Unexpected Times

by zathara001



Series: Changing Times [4]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 01:10:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8824105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zathara001/pseuds/zathara001
Summary: Spock and Uhura ask Jim for a favor.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: All rights in this work are hereby given to Paramount and the others who own Star Trek.
> 
> This is part four of the Changing Times Series (the others are Unquiet Times, Unsettling Times, and Trying Times), and takes place toward the end of and after the first five-year mission.

The day started like any other. Jim woke two minutes before his alarm was scheduled to go off, and he showered and had breakfast in his quarters while he skimmed last night's logs.

 

Day 1738 of their five-year mission had ended well - meaning there had been no red alerts, no sudden encounters with ships their sensors couldn't detect, nothing at all to indicate that they were on the most ambitious exploratory mission Starfleet had ever devised.

 

They were on the last leg of that mission, Jim reminded himself, with only three months left before their return to Earth and whatever Starfleet might have in store for them afterward.

 

He finished his coffee and started for the bridge. He hadn't allowed himself to think about what would happen after the mission while they were still in the middle of it, but now they were heading back to known space and, while Jim knew better than to count his chickens before they'd hatched, he allowed himself the luxury of imagination.

 

Some things, like promotions and reassignments, were a given. Jim chose not to think about how his heart clenched at the thought of not having his crew with him, of looking to the helm and seeing someone other than Sulu, or the communications station without Uhura, or a non-Scottish voice answering when he called Engineering.

 

It was the way of things, Jim knew, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

 

He shoved those thoughts aside, settling into his normal demeanor as the turbolift doors swooshed open to welcome him to the bridge.

 

Of course Spock had arrived before him, though he sat at the science station rather than in the center seat, so Jim approached the gamma shift command duty officer.

 

"Status?" he asked because it was required. The logs had already given him the answer.

 

"OFS, sir," she replied.

 

Jim chuckled at the old acronym, but understood the sarcastic intent. "Better bored than dead, Commander. You're relieved."

 

"Aye, sir. Hope your shift's boring, too."

 

Jim chuckled again as he took the center seat. A moment later, Spock approached.

 

"Good morning, Mr. Spock," he said, just to see whether Spock would remind him, again, that technically there was no morning in space.

 

He was slightly disappointed when Spock said only, "I trust you rested well, Captain."

 

"Well enough," Jim replied. Then, "Something on your mind?"

 

"A minor matter," Spock said. Jim waited for clarification, because that could cover everything from a hangnail to a weakening in the warp core. "Will you join Nyota and me for dinner tonight?"

 

It was the first time they'd issued an invitation like that, and Jim kept the surprise off his face, but he knew Spock felt it through their bond. Spock's lips twitched, just briefly, and Jim felt amusement in return.

 

"Is there a special occasion I've forgotten?" Jim asked lightly.

 

"Negative."

 

Jim felt Spock's reluctance to discuss the matter further in public, and chose just to nod. "Be happy to."

 

"Her quarters, 1745. She requested attire other than our uniforms." With those pronouncements, Spock returned to his station.

 

At least this shift offered the puzzle, however slight, of figuring out why Spock and Uhura might want to have dinner with him, and why she'd requested he come out of uniform. The only other time that any of them had specified no uniforms was when he'd asked her to help save Spock's life during his first _pon farr_.

 

There were still a few years left before the next one, so that couldn't be her reason. Still, Jim couldn't help wondering if she'd meant for him to associate the invitation with that time, and if so, what further associations he was supposed to make.

 

Jim grinned to himself. He liked a challenge.

 

*

 

By the time his shift ended and he'd handed off command to his beta shift relief, Jim hadn't figured out what the motive behind the dinner invitation might be. The only way to find out appeared to be just to show up.

 

His Iowa upbringing rebelled at the thought of showing up to dinner without a gift for his hostess. His Starfleet practicality reminded him that there was nothing available from the replicators that Spock and Uhura couldn't get for themselves - except, maybe, that bottle of single-barrel bourbon Bones had somehow acquired the last time they were at a starbase.

 

Bones would kill him if he borrowed even a couple of shots of that bourbon, though, and Jim blew out a breath. Just this once, he told himself. Just this once, show up empty-handed, and get them each something next time you're in port, even if it's back on Earth.

 

He changed from his uniform into more casual clothing, ran a comb through his hair and brushed his teeth. A glance at the clock told him he still had plenty of time before he needed to head for the junior officers' quarters. He sorted through his personal communications - he could answer the message from his mother quickly, but the one from his elder counterpart would take a while longer.

 

Jim sent the message to his mother, and would not admit how relieved he was that he could leave now and not be too early for dinner.

 

*

 

Jim wasn't surprised when Spock was the one who answered. Jim grinned anyway. "Hey, Spock."

 

"Jim." Spock stepped aside to let him in, and Jim couldn't help a quick glance around. He'd never been to Uhura's quarters before. He wasn't surprised to find them neat and orderly, but whether that was her natural preference or a side effect of dating Spock he wasn't certain. He'd bet that the colorful throws and artwork were all hers, though.

 

"Thanks for coming, Jim." He blinked at Uhura's use of his given name as she came from the tiny kitchenette. Her expression faltered briefly, and he could only think that she'd read something in his own that she didn't like. She recovered quickly, and when she spoke again, her tone was more serious. "Tonight's not about captain and commander and lieutenant. It's about Jim and Spock and Nyota."

 

Jim's gut clenched. He'd used those words to her, years before, when they'd had to join forces to save Spock's life during _pon farr_.

 

"It's not -" Jim began, then stopped, swallowed, and started again. "I thought there were still a few years to go before that happens again."

 

"Three point eight," Spock corrected.

 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply that," Uhura said.

 

"You meant to imply something, though," Jim observed.

 

Her gaze flicked to Spock for a moment before returning to meet his. "Just that there are things we want to talk about, and those things are personal."

 

Which raised more questions than it answered, but Jim relaxed anyway. "Sorry I don't have a hostess gift for you."

 

Spock frowned. "A hostess gift?"

 

"A human tradition, at least in Iowa," Jim said. "When someone invites you to their house for dinner, you bring a small gift to say thank you."

 

"It's all right, Jim," Uhura - Nyota - said. "It's not like we have room for much, anyway. Please, sit down. Spock will pour the wine."

 

"Wine, Spock?" Jim asked as he took the seat nearest him.

 

"Nyota assures me it will go well with the meal she has planned."

 

"I was more surprised that you have it at all."

 

"I picked it up on the last shore leave," Nyota said. "I've been saving it for a special occasion."

 

"Note the stardate," Jim said to Spock. "She's willing to concede that I'm part of a special occasion."

 

Spock's lips twitched, and Jim could feel amusement radiating down their bond. "I am certain her concession is somewhat unwilling."

 

Jim laughed and accepted a glass from Spock. "Fair enough. In any case, thanks, Nyota."

 

After that, it was easy to slide into casual conversation over pasta primavera and garlic bread, though Jim suspected that they were the only three people on board ship who would consider comparisons of classical Vulcan and human literature and music part of a casual conversation. Or a heated discussion of the causes and consequences of the Chinese Implosion in the late twenty-first century.

 

Jim couldn't remember the last meal he'd enjoyed so much.

 

Still, he noticed that Uhura's expression turned pensive more than once, especially when she wasn't the one debating a point with him.

 

"So," Jim said later, after the remains of the replicated tiramisu had been cleared away and the three of them sat around the table with the last of the Deltan wine, "even if I couldn't feel something from him -" he nodded at Spock "- it's clear you're antsy about something, Nyota. Give."

 

She glanced at Spock, then met Jim's gaze. "Two things."

 

"Two things, then." Jim gave her what he intended to be an encouraging smile.

 

They shared another glance, and then Spock's sense through their bond shifted, and Jim raised an inquiring eyebrow at his first officer.

 

"Will you perform our marriage ceremony?"

 

Jim blinked. "Marriage? Not bonding?"

 

Spock's lips twitched. "As you are not a telepath, you could not perform a bonding ceremony."

 

"No, of course not," Jim said. "What I meant was, you're getting married, not bonded?"

 

"I'm psi-null, Jim," Nyota said. "We can't bond, not even with a mind healer's help."

 

Jim blinked. That explained why it had taken both of them to deal with Spock's _pon farr_. He knew humans as a rule weren't actively psychic, but most had some capacity for it, even if only receptively. True nulls were rare, and Jim couldn't help thinking that it was just one more mark of an uncaring universe that Spock had fallen in love with one. He shoved that thought aside to focus on happier things.

 

"And here I thought if you ever got married, I'd be best man," Jim quipped. "Of course I will - but I don't have any authority to do it once we're docked."

 

"We do not wish an elaborate event," Spock said. "But it will bring us pleasure to be married before our friends by my _t'hy'la_."

 

Nyota laughed. "He means thank you."

 

Jim grinned back. "I know." Then, "Second thing?"

 

Nyota's smile faded, and she looked - Jim frowned a little. Why would she look apprehensive? He glanced at Spock and sent a thread of inquiry down their bond. Spock met his gaze, but Jim had the sense that he was waiting for Nyota to speak.

 

Jim turned to her, curiosity turning to puzzlement when he saw her worrying her lower lip between her teeth. "Nyota?"

 

"We want to have a child," she blurted. "But - you know Spock's a hybrid?"

 

Her use of the biological term caught Jim's attention. He'd grown up in Iowa; he knew the technical meaning of the term - and the probable consequences. Still, he looked over at Spock when he asked for confirmation.

 

"You're sterile."

 

Spock nodded, once. "A number of tests were conducted in my youth, all with the same result. And after _pon farr_ , there can be no doubt."

 

Jim blew out a breath. "That sucks, if you want kids."

 

"We believe we have found an acceptable solution."

 

Jim got it immediately. "Sperm donor. Human or Vulcan?"

 

"It is unlikely that a Vulcan would see the logic in producing another hybrid, who would most probably also be sterile."

 

"Makes sense," Jim said. "I'm sure you'll find -"

 

"Jim."

 

The seriousness of Nyota's tone when she cut him off drew Jim's attention to her.

 

She was equally serious when she added, "We want it to be you."

 

For long moments, Jim could only stare at her. Then he looked to Spock.

 

"We would not have anyone else," Spock informed him, and Jim had to swallow a lump down his throat at the sincerity he heard from both Spock's tone and presence in his mind.

 

"I'm - honored," he said finally. "I'll stop by medbay in the morning, and -"

 

"Jim."

 

Again Nyota cut him off, but this time he frowned at her. "What? If that's what you want -"

 

"It is," she said. "It's just -"

 

She broke off, and Jim read embarrassment in her expression - only that couldn't be right, because they'd been through far too many situations during their time together for a simple conversation to be embarrassing, whatever its topic.

 

She flicked a glance at Spock, and Jim watched his first officer straighten even more than he already was. "I believe the correct phrasing is, the child should be conceived by the traditional method."

 

Jim blinked. Again. Then he could only ask, "How is that even logical?"

 

"If the child were to be Vulcan, that would be an appropriate question," Spock answered.

 

"But it's going to be human," Nyota finished. "And I'd rather tell a human child that we wanted him or her so badly that … Jim?"

 

Jim was grinning madly - and completely inappropriately. "Sorry, Nyota, there's a reason you always lose on poker night. You're lousy at bullshitting."

 

"I'm not," she protested. "At least, not completely. That's part of it."

 

"What's the rest?" Jim asked when she didn't continue. "I should know."

 

Finally, she blew out a breath. "I don't want it to be … clinical, all tests and turkey basters."

 

Spock, it seemed, hadn't heard that expression before. "I am unfamiliar with a device called a turkey baster. What is its purpose?"

 

"To baste turkeys," Jim answered, surprised when Nyota echoed him. Then he grinned at Spock's expression. "You walked right into that one."

 

"Perhaps," Spock conceded. "What is the connection between a turkey and -"

 

"Okay, they don't really use turkey basters," Nyota said. "I think. But they have to get the sperm inside me somehow." She took a breath, then met Jim's gaze with her own. "We want this child to love, and I find the idea of starting something for love with - sorry for the term - clinical efficiency… inconsistent and illogical."

 

Jim turned that over in his mind briefly, and concluded that it made a certain, human female sense. He wasn't entirely surprised to feel Spock's presence in his mind grow hesitantly curious at the conclusion, and he reminded Spock that this had less to do with logic and more to do with the woman he knew and how she felt about what she wanted.

 

"I get it," he said quietly. "Are you sure?"

 

"Yes," Nyota answered, simple and direct.

 

One down. Jim turned to Spock. "Are you sure?"

 

"As Nyota is the one to conceive and carry the child, her -"

 

Jim cut him off. "Truth, Spock. You're asking me to have sex with the woman who is your wife in all but name, and she'll be that, too, before we get back to Earth. Are you _sure_?"

 

He lowered every mental shield he'd ever learned how to erect, not pushing, but in this moment, he had to be able to read every nuance of expression or emotion. Not that Spock couldn't shield from him, but Jim had to make every effort he could.

 

Spock lowered his own shields before he said, "I am certain, Jim."

 

Jim heard what Spock didn't say equally clearly. _I could not trust anyone else with this._

 

Jim blew out a breath. "Okay, then. I guess it's decided."

 

"When do you want to start?" Nyota asked in a tone that was probably supposed to be businesslike, but sounded nervous.

 

"Not for a while," Jim answered. "Maybe not until we get back to Earth."

 

"What is the reason for your delay?" Spock asked.

 

"There're more than one. But the important one is this." He faced Nyota fully before he continued, "I've spent the last five years thinking of you as a sister - as my brother's … well, wife. That pretty much shut down any sexual desire."

 

Nyota blinked, her eyebrows drawing together. "But, you flirt with me -"

 

"Shamelessly," Jim agreed. "Because I know it's not going anywhere. Besides, it's mostly routine now, even for you, isn't it?"

 

"Yes," she admitted slowly.

 

"So I need to shift how I think of you," Jim said. "Look at you like a woman I can want, not a woman off-limits to me."

 

"That - makes sense," Nyota said finally. "And … I might have to do something similar."

 

Something in Jim relaxed, however fractionally, and he summoned a grin. "In the meantime, how about we discuss wedding plans? Captain's dining room or observation lounge?"

 


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn't until chess the next night that Jim had the chance to talk privately with Spock. He made a conservative opening move and smiled slightly when Spock realized what he'd done.

 

"What troubles you, Jim?" Spock's answering move was equally conservative.

 

"Not troubles, exactly. I just want to know what I'm - what we're - getting into here."

 

"I thought it was explained last night -"

 

Jim waved that aside. "The basic outline was explained. I'm concerned with details."

 

"Which details do you speak of?"

 

"Most importantly," Jim rested his forearms on the edge of the table, leaned forward. "Do you want to be there for it?" Then he felt Spock's reaction through their bond and blinked. "Been a while since I surprised you like that."

 

"Why would you ask that question?"

 

"Because there's a difference." And then Jim stopped, certain of his assertion, but uncertain how to explain them so Spock would understand. He searched for words, and reached for the back of Spock's hand, pausing before making contact.

 

Spock studied the movement, one eyebrow raised slightly, then nodded, and Jim rested three fingers against his _t'hy'la's_ skin.

 

"With the understanding that Terrans are still working through centuries of sexual repression," Jim said, "there's a difference. You being there is more … honest, for lack of a better word. If you're not there, it'll feel … less honest."

 

And those words were incomplete, but Jim didn't know any better ones. He could only hope that the bond carried his meaning.

 

"I do not understand how my presence affects the honesty of the act," Spock said, and Jim felt genuine confusion through their bond. "We are agreed. Therefore, there can be no dishonesty."

 

"The perception of the honesty," Jim amended, and winced internally. When had he started giving a damn what other people thought?

 

"The perceptions of others are irrelevant."

 

"Bullshit." Jim pulled his hand back, used it to move a pawn. "At least in certain circumstances. All right, you don't want to be there. Are you going to listen in through the bond?"

 

Spock's gaze met his own. "It is my intention to give you the privacy you have always given us."

 

"Well - not always," Jim said.

 

"Since you learned to shield." Spock paused, and even without physical contact, Jim could feel him ordering his thoughts. "I ask again, what troubles you, Jim?"

 

After all they'd been through together, all they'd shared on this mission and before, Jim should find it easier to confide in Spock. He admitted, very privately, deep within his mind, that it was the situation that made it difficult. Apparently, he wasn't as free of those centuries of sexual repression as he'd thought.

 

Still, the words had to be said, and better now than later. Jim squared his shoulders and fixed his gaze on a point above Spock's right eyebrow, as if he were about to debrief. Maybe, in a strange way, he was.

 

"All of my friends - the ones who taught me what the word really means - are on this ship," he said. "You, Bones, Sulu, Scotty, Chekov, Uhura, a few others. I don't want to screw that up, and I'm terrified that I will."

 

Spock tilted his head to one side, apparently considering - something. "You fear that sex with Nyota will, as you say, screw that up. Why?"

 

"Sex always screws things up," Jim said. "Except once."

 

"What made that experience different?"

 

"She was Orion - friendly sex, sex as friends, however you want to describe it, was natural to her. Neither of us expected it to be more than it was."

 

"Interesting."

 

Something in Spock's tone, in the careful not-shielding-but-not-broadcasting neutrality of his side of their bond, made Jim frown.

 

"What?"

 

"I had assumed you referred to your assistance during my Time."

 

"That wasn't about sex," Jim responded. "Not for me, anyway." It had been about keeping Uhura - Nyota, he reminded himself - safe and protected from a barely-controllable Vulcan on a sexual rampage who wouldn't respond to anything outside a bond.

 

"But this is, or will be?"

 

"Well, yeah. How could it not be?"

 

"Because," Spock said, and only a flash of impatience came through the bond, "you are giving us a gift, if you will - something that we cannot achieve ourselves. Sex is simply the preferred method of accomplishing that objective."

 

Jim blew out a breath. "Should've just gone for it last night, before I had time to think about it."

 

"Your reasons for waiting are logical."

 

"I know - and I'm not changing them. Just - sometimes, sex isn't logical. And sometimes, I should leap without looking."

 

Spock had no answer, but then Jim hadn't expected one.

 

*

 

The biggest reason Nyota had wanted to be married aboard the _Enterprise_ was for the enforced simplicity.

 

On Earth, her family would insist on a more traditional ceremony, with dancing, singing, and lots of food - a display that neither she nor Spock would appreciate. The ship's resources, especially this close to the end of their five-year mission, were limited, so there would be no orgy of excess decorations or food, just a mood set by lighting with drinks afterward.

 

There would also be only a handful of people present for the actual ceremony - their friends, the members of the Communications and Science departments. On Earth, all of her extended family, plus most of the people in the town she'd grown up in, would have to be invited. They'd turn it into a family party crashed by a handful - if that many - of Vulcans, and she wouldn't let them do that to Spock - even if they'd do so unintentionally and he'd remind her that regretting what has already occurred and cannot be changed is illogical.

 

No, a simple ceremony aboard the _Enterprise_ suited her and Spock, and that was what mattered - even if she'd have to endure a couple of hours of her mother bemoaning the ceremony they should have had.

 

However simple it was, though, it still required _some_ planning. So while Spock had his semi-weekly chess game with the captain - _Jim_ , he should be Jim, at least in her mind - she used the time to contact the Chief of Recreation to reserve the observation deck and arrange the lighting she wanted.

 

Of course, when it came to the _Enterprise_ , simple was always a relative term. By the time she finished her conversation with the Chief of Recreation - and had somehow agreed to a reception with Vulcan and human teas and finger sandwiches, rather than the simple champagne toast she'd requested - Spock was returning from his chess game with the captain. Jim.

 

"How was the game?" she asked.

 

"Not as challenging as usual."

 

She paused with her cup of tea halfway to her mouth. "Why not?"

 

"The captain - Jim - was not at his best."

 

Nyota waited, but when Spock hadn't spoken even after her second sip of tea, she said, "What's wrong with him? Wait -" she added, as she remembered that Spock would answer the question she asked, not the question she meant. "Why wasn't he at his best?"

 

"I believe he is anxious about our agreement." Spock crossed to the 'fresher and began to strip out of his uniform.

 

"Is he backing out of it?" Nyota asked, unable to stop the spike of worry that shot through her. If Kirk - if Jim backed out…

 

"No," Spock replied, turning to her. "However, he expressed concern that it might _screw up_ your friendship."

 

Nyota took a sip of her tea to buy her time to process that. Finally, she asked, "Are you certain he meant his friendship with me, not his friendship with you?"

 

"We are _t'hy'la_ ," Spock said as though it explained everything - and perhaps for him it did.

 

"But he's human, and you're part human," Nyota countered. "It's unlikely such a pair has ever been _t'hy'la_ before. He could be concerned about that."

 

"Nyota." Spock crossed the room to sit on the sofa beside her. He'd pulled on his meditation robe, and the soft fabric brushed against her knee when he sat. "Are you concerned that this will _screw up_ your relationship with Jim - or with me?"

 

"Of course I'm concerned, Spock - we're all friends, and while I know logically that sex is just one more expression of affection … it's called making love for a reason."

 

"Clarify."

 

"It can - not always, but it can - deepen feelings already present. You'll feel any change through your bond with him, and it is possible that -" she paused, searching for the words and settled on "you'll be negatively affected by that change."

 

It had been a very long time since he'd given her a raised eyebrow of such intensity. "You fear I will be compromised?"

 

"A little," she admitted. "You can't feel what I feel, after all, and we both know Jim cares deeply."

 

"I can conceive of no circumstance under which my regard for you would change," Spock said. "And should Jim's regard for you deepen, is that not simply further confirmation that he is an excellent judge of character?"

 

For long moments, she could only stare at him. Then she laughed aloud, in a way she rarely did around him, out of deference to his Vulcan preferences. "Only you could find a way to turn a concern into a compliment."

 

"Perhaps you should speak with Jim about your concern."

 

"Perhaps I will. _Later._ "

 

The corners of his mouth twitched, and he leaned forward to meet her lips with his.

 

*

 

Jim stood in a curtained-off section of the main observation deck, watching Carol Marcus fuss with Nyota's dress. Nyota had foregone traditional Terran dress in favor of Vulcan-styled robes in colors that proclaimed her Bantu heritage - just one of the blended traditions she and Spock had chosen.

 

The gong Spock struck was another, and Jim had to smile when both Nyota and Carol started at the sound.

 

"Ready?" Jim murmured, and when Nyota nodded, he stepped out of their alcove and approached the front of the room.

 

Where a traditional Vulcan ceremony would have included attendants ringing bells as Nyota followed him, and a Terran ceremony might have played Wagner's _Bridal Chorus_ , today, they approached Spock in silence. The lights dimmed as they walked, finally becoming a muted spotlight over the front of the room, where the participants would stand.

 

Jim turned to face the crowd as Spock approached from his left side, with Bones as his attendant, and Nyota took her place to his right, Carol Marcus standing with her.

 

"Since the days of the first wooden vessels," Jim began, "shipmasters have had one happy privilege - that of uniting people in the bonds of matrimony. We are gathered here today with you, Nyota Uhura, and you, S'chn T'gai Spock, beneath the stars our home, in the sight of your fellows, and in accordance with our laws so that you may pledge yourselves to each other."

 

He swallowed back a lump he hadn't expected to feel, and continued, "Every culture we've yet encountered has some form of marriage, and every one has spoken of it in song or poetry. One Terran poet said this."

 

Beside Spock, Bones straightened in his dress uniform and recited,

 

_You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore._

_You shall be together when white wings of death scatter your days._

_Aye, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God._

_But let there be spaces in your togetherness,_

_And let the winds of the heavens dance between you._

_Love one another but make not a bond of love:_

_Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls._

 

Jim paused to let the last echo of those words fall away before he spoke again. "Though he didn't speak strictly of marriage, Surak of Vulcan was more succinct."

 

From her place beside Nyota, Carol said, " _Ma etek natyan - teretuhr lau shetau etek weh-lo'uk do hau-ov t'on._ We have differences - together may we become more, greater than the sum of both."

 

The last of Jim's nerves fell away - now he was on more certain ground. "But more than either of these, marriage is an act of will, consciously chosen and lived every day." He met Nyota's gaze. "Nyota Uhura, will you love, honor, and respect S'chn T'gai Spock all the days of your life?"

 

Nyota's smile was wide, radiant. "I will."

 

Jim smiled back at her before turning to Spock. "S'chn T'gai Spock, will you love, honor, and respect Nyota Uhura all the days of your life?"

 

Spock, of course, didn't smile, but Jim read the expression in his eyes. "I will."

 

"Then it is my privilege, my honor, and my great pleasure to pronounce you married." Jim took a step back so that the spotlight fell only on the newly-wedded couple as they turned to face each other.

 

"I love you," Nyota said, her gaze locking with Spock's.

 

Spock inclined his head, the slightest bow of respect, and spoke in Vulcan, then English. " _Taluhk nash-veh k'dular_. I cherish thee."

 

They touched fingers together in a Vulcan kiss, then their lips met briefly in a human kiss. Finally, as the lights came up, they turned to face their fellows who had gathered with them.

 

The applause echoed throughout the room.


	3. Chapter 3

Being back on Earth was stranger than Nyota had expected. After all the alien planets she'd explored, there was something comforting about having her native soil beneath her feet. At the same time, it wasn't quite _home_ in the way she'd thought of it while she was in the black.

 

Whoever said you can't go home again was right, she decided - only in her case, it wasn't that home had changed so much as it was that she herself had changed. She was far more mature and capable than she had been when she'd left on Starfleet's first five-year exploratory mission.

 

It was that maturity that kept her seated through a day-long debriefing concerning recommendations for future postings for her junior staff without jumping for every distraction - including the message from Jim that lit up her communicator about 1545.

 

Her debriefing concluded at 1600, and the moment she exited the conference room, Nyota checked Jim's message.

 

_You know a bar called Calliope's?_

 

 _I'm sure I can find it_ , she replied.

 

It was a few minutes before another message arrived. _Stuck in debriefing until 1630 at least. See you there after?_

 

Her breath caught momentarily. There was nothing suggestive in his words, but she could anticipate the meaning behind them. Quickly, Nyota looked up the location of Calliope's, saw that it was far enough from the Admiralty campus that it was unlikely they'd run into anyone they knew there, and calculated the travel time before entering her response. _Sure, see you there 1700 or so._

 

His reply came back immediately. _It's a date._

 

Nyota smiled to herself, then put away her communicator and started for the doors. She'd have enough time to shower and change out of her uniform if she hurried.

 

*

 

Calliope's turned out to be a retro-throwback bar, mixing styles from the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries with a deranged abandon that struck Nyota as entirely appropriate for San Francisco. It was also, she mused, very Jim Kirk, in a way that anyone who only knew him through Starfleet's public relations efforts would have difficulty believing.

 

She'd arrived a little after 1700 - San Francisco had a reputation for nightmarish traffic dating back almost to the city's founding and even modern technology couldn't improve it- and now scanned the room for familiar dirty-blond hair and bright blue eyes.

 

When she didn't find him, she turned for the bar and the bartender - a middle-aged human male - gestured her toward an empty stool. She was perusing the cocktail list when a voice spoke to her right.

 

"Her drink's on me."

 

It was a distorted echo of the words Jim had spoken when they met, but it wasn't Jim speaking them. She glanced to her right, took in the scruffy but too-clean appearance of the man next to her, and had to bite back a laugh at his lecherous expression. Even Jim hadn't leered like that.

 

"Her drink's on her," she told the man. "Thanks, but no thanks." She turned back to the bartender, who looked like he was trying to keep from laughing - or maybe punching the other man, Nyota wasn't sure. "And I'll have a whisky sour."

 

"What?" The man to her right affected a stunned expression. "A complete turn-down before you even know my name?"

 

"Uh-huh." Nyota refused to look at him, instead watching the bartender as he mixed her drink. "Not interested."

 

"Is this guy bothering you?"

 

The new voice came from her left, and she knew this one. She gave Jim an unbelieving stare, which he met with a somewhat sheepish grin.

 

"Fully aware of the irony of the situation, thanks," he told her, and she had to chuckle. Then he was looking past her to the man on her right. "I'd let her alone, unless I wanted a solid right hook."

 

The man eyed Jim dubiously. Like Nyota, he'd opted for civilian clothes - a dark leather jacket over a white T-shirt and dark trousers. The man snorted, obviously underestimating Jim's capability. "From you?"

 

"From her," Jim replied and turned to the bartender. "You still have popcorn, right?"

 

Nyota caught his arm and glared at him. "I can handle this."

 

Jim's eyebrows drew together in puzzlement. "Why do you think I asked for popcorn?" Then he added, more seriously, "You shouldn't have to."

 

Almost against her will, Nyota found herself smiling at him. "Thanks."

 

"You didn't say you were _meeting_ someone," the other man groused.

 

"She shouldn't have to," the bartender snapped and placed her drink in front of her. "This one's on the house, ma'am."

 

He fixed the other man with a glare that rivaled any she'd ever seen Spock or Jim or McCoy use.

 

"Sorry," the man muttered, and moved away.

 

"Sorry," the bartender echoed. "The clientele here is usually more polite."

 

"It's not a problem," Nyota assured him.

 

"Sorry I'm late," Jim said. "The debriefing ran over a bit. Admiral Barnett had a conniption fit over the incident on Beta XII-A."

 

"That's at least a reasonable incident to have a conniption fit over," Nyota allowed, taking a sip of her drink and smiling at the bartender. "It's very good, thank you."

 

"You're very welcome," he replied, then fixed a steady blue gaze on Jim. "She's too good for you, you know."

 

"I do." Jim smiled at Nyota, and there was more in that simple expression than she remembered seeing from him before. Her breath caught, and she had to take another sip of her drink to cover her embarrassment.

 

Fortunately, Jim looked away, back to the bartender. "Truth is, she's only borrowing me for a while."

 

"Borrowing?" the man's eyebrows shot up. "For what?"

 

Opportunities to tease Jim came along so rarely that Nyota couldn't let this one pass. Before he could answer, she smiled as sweetly as she knew how. "Stud service."

 

The bartender spluttered and, to her surprise, Jim flushed a deep red.

 

"That'll teach me to put off necessary introductions," he muttered.

 

"Introductions?" Nyota repeated, frowning. She'd expected a quip in return, or maybe if she were truly lucky, a momentary stumble from Jim, not this sudden awkwardness.

 

"I'm Tiberius Kirk," the bartender said. "You can call me Ty."

 

"Pleased to meet you," Nyota responded automatically. Then what he'd said registered. "Tiberius … Kirk?"

 

"Paternal grandfather," Jim said. "Ty, this is Lieutenant Nyota Uhura, chief communications officer, and my bond-brother's wife."

 

"That's not an explanation," the bartender - Ty - said.

 

"It kind of is," Jim countered. "Spock's sterile, and they want kids. I'm donating the genetic material. And on that note, why don't we head upstairs for dinner?"

 

Nyota took the excuse and picked up her glass with a "Lovely to meet you," that she couldn't quite meet Ty's gaze for.

 

Jim turned back to his grandfather. "Just send up two of today's special, will you?"

 

Ty nodded, and then Jim was escorting her to a staircase partly hidden behind a partition covered in classic movie posters. Nyota climbed the stairs, acutely aware of his presence behind her.

 

With his hand at the small of her back, Jim gestured her toward a table in the corner, somewhat secluded from the other tables but with a view over the rooftops to the bay.

 

"Beautiful view," Nyota murmured as she sat down. Jim sat across from her, and she met his gaze apologetically. "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

 

"It'll take more than that to embarrass me," Jim teased. "Just caught me off guard, that's all."

 

Nyota wasn't certain she believed him, but she let that go for now. "I wasn't expecting dinner."

 

Jim looked genuinely puzzled. "Why not?"

 

Despite their being in a secluded corner, the nearest other diners a couple of meters away, Nyota lowered her voice before answering. "You know this is a sure thing. You don't have to go to all this trouble."

 

"First, it's no trouble - it's a pleasure. Second, and more importantly, the more relaxed you are, the greater the chance of success."

 

"What," Nyota teased, "you're not taking the chance for repeated encounters?"

 

"I didn't think you'd want more than necessary."

 

"Depends how much of your reputation is earned, doesn't it?" Nyota shot back, and Jim laughed - actually laughed with genuine humor. She didn't remember the last time she'd heard him laugh like that, and suddenly all her nerves melted away.

 

"Why'd you choose your grandfather's place for dinner?"

 

"That's easy," Jim answered. "Nobody'll bother us here - and the guy downstairs doesn't count, because you're a beautiful woman and people will approach you sometimes. Including me, if you recall."

 

"Oh, I've tried to forget," she assured him, fighting to keep her expression neutral. His grin told her she didn't succeed, so she changed the subject. "Tell me about your grandfather?"

 

*

 

Jim rested his palm against the apartment scanner, then stood aside to let Nyota enter first. She looked around, her expression curious.

 

"I didn't know you have an apartment in San Francisco."

 

"I don't." Jim grinned at her surprise. "It belongs to a friend of Ty's - whose trip off-planet just happened to coincide with _Enterprise's_ return. I offered to stay here while he's gone, keep an eye on the place."

 

"That it's nowhere close to 'Fleet headquarters is just a bonus."

 

"More that it's the reason I offered in the first place," Jim told her. "Less chance of anyone starting any gossip we don't need."

 

Nyota tilted her head to one side. "Are you protecting me, or yourself?"

 

"All three of us. Not that we can't handle it, just that it's nobody's business but ours exactly how I'm donating genetic material." Jim glanced away, suddenly nervous in a way he hadn't been since puberty. "Speaking of …"

 

"Yes?"

 

"Last chance to tell me to stop by Medical." The words were as clinical as any he could've said, but the rasp in his voice belied his own preference in the matter. He waited for her response, trying to keep his expression open to whatever she might say.

 

"Are you afraid I'll find out that reputation isn't deserved?" There was humor in her eyes, and Jim couldn't help laughing.

 

He took her hand and tugged her close. "Of all the things to be afraid of in this, that's not one of them."

 

"Prove it." She reached her mouth up and he met her halfway.


	4. Chapter 4

Nyota woke slowly, savoring the feel of the body pressed against hers. She started when she realized the chest beneath her hand was free of the soft mat of hair she'd become so accustomed to.

 

"'Sokay, Nyota." She knew that voice. It had been a part of her life for the last half-dozen years, but never in a situation like this. "'S just me."

 

She managed a chuckle. "Not _just_ you, Ca- Jim. What time is it?"

 

"Early - 0400 or so."

 

Nyota groaned, and felt his chest rumble with a low chuckle beneath her hand.

 

"Still on ship's time," he said, and it wasn't a question. He had to be feeling the same disorientation she was, even after almost a full week back on Earth.

 

She nodded, uncertain whether she should say anything more, and if so, what those words should be.

 

Jim made the decision for her. "Another round, or are you opting for a turkey baster after all?"

 

Nyota laughed and felt the last of her nerves bleeding away. _Like you should be nervous_ now _._ "I should be asking if you're up for another round."

 

"My refractory period isn't _that_ long," Jim countered, and Nyota laughed again, then frowned when she realized how easy it was.

 

"Something wrong?" Jim asked, and now _he_ sounded nervous - not that anyone who didn't know him well would've noticed.

 

"Not wrong, exactly," she said. "I was just realizing how easy it is to be with you."

 

"It probably wouldn't have been, before."

 

 _Before_. It was a simple word, but it contained so much history, so much of who they'd been and who they'd become that Nyota shivered.

 

"It's okay," Jim added. "It's okay to realize that we would've been good together. Eventually."

 

"Eventually," Nyota said. "After I kicked your ass a few times."

 

Jim laughed this time, a genuine laugh that she might never have heard from him before. "I'd've needed it, probably. I was a bit of a shit."

 

"A bit?"

 

"Hey, let me have _some_ dignity here."

 

"You do remember that I have access to all the ship's logs - especially the ones that never made it into the official reports."

 

"You mean the ones that disappeared in a computer glitch? Nice try." Jim bent his head and dropped a light kiss on her mouth.

 

She didn't let him pull away. Instead she caught his lower lip between her teeth and tugged him closer. He came willingly, and then she was breathless from their kiss.

 

When they finally broke for air, his gaze was intent, but still had a hint of playfulness behind it. "You know I'm an open-minded guy. If there's anything you want to do, that you might not want to ask Spock … I'm here."

 

Nyota opened her mouth to tell him that her sex life was just fine, thanks - and then realized that wasn't what he'd offered, and the answer died in her throat. Yes, sex with Spock was fulfilling… but he saw no logic in experimentation, or role-playing. He'd indulged her a couple of times, but when he was clearly uncomfortable, she wasn't satisfied.

 

"I might take you up on that," she said, the words barely a whisper. "Another time."

 

"And now?"

 

It was a relief to say the words aloud. "Now, I just want you."

 

*

 

For probably the millionth time since he'd returned to Earth, Jim wished he were back in the black. The Admiralty had known the _Enterprise's_ return date, or at least a solid estimate, for six months before they'd arrived. In all that time, and in the two months since, they hadn't found anything for him to do besides debriefing - _five weeks_ of debriefing. The last three had labeled post-mission-administration, and consisted of more personnel evaluations, reviews, and recommendations than he'd thought possible.

 

 _Never take a desk job._ The words of his elder counterpart came back to him, and Jim had to grin wryly. Two months of a desk job, and he was already crawling the walls, at least in his mind.

 

Spock's message was a welcome interruption. _If you are available, Nyota has invited us to join her for lunch._

 

 _Sure,_ he sent back, grateful for any break in the tedium of paperwork. _When and where?_

 

It was only after he acknowledged the time and location that Jim realized it would be the first time he'd be with both of them since he and Nyota had been together sexually.

 

_Here's hoping it won't be awkward._

 

*

 

Jim strode up Kearney Street, threading his way through the crowd of pedestrians that never seemed to thin until well after midnight. Now, just after noon, he bumped shoulders with more people than he would've liked.

 

_How'd she get Spock to agree to come here? Must've been hell on his personal space._

 

The thought must have carried through the bond he shared with Spock, because he felt the other man's amusement, accompanied by a sense of, _Even here, people make way for Vulcans._

 

Jim chuckled at the thought, then had to struggle not to laugh aloud at the skeptical expressions aimed his way by some of his fellow pedestrians. Fortunately, he found his destination, and dodged past a group of human and alien youngsters into the relative quiet of the restaurant.

 

Like so many historic places in San Francisco, Nan King was tiny, just under four meters wide, a row of tables along the walls to left and right. In the right rear, there was a doorway, and when he didn't see Spock or Nyota in the main room, Jim squeezed down the narrow space between the tables and turned into the adjacent room.

 

As soon as he did, he saw Spock and Nyota sitting at a table against the near wall. Jim had to turn sideways to make it through the almost over-full dining area to sit beside Spock.

 

He'd barely adjusted his chair when an elderly Asian woman came to the table to take their orders with an efficiency that bordered on brusqueness. Jim glanced over the limited menu and added sesame chicken to what Nyota and Spock chose.

 

"Interesting place," he observed as the server left.

 

"Family run," Nyota told him. "They use the original recipes from when it opened back in the twentieth century. It's some of the best Chinese food you'll ever eat."

 

"Looking forward to it, then," Jim said. "So, what's going on?"

 

"Jim?" Spock said, even as Nyota blinked.

 

"Why should something be going on?" she asked.

 

"There are plenty of Chinese restaurants near the Admiralty and Academy," Jim said. "This one has the same advantages Ty's place does. Therefore, you want to talk reasonably privately without calling attention to it. What's going on?"

 

Nyota blew out a breath. "I went to Medical today."

 

Jim's pulse jumped. Beside him, Spock straightened almost imperceptibly.

 

"I'm pregnant," she said. "About six weeks."

 

"Congratulations." Despite the lack of space between their chairs, Jim twisted and managed to clap Spock on the shoulder. He made sure that the pad of his thumb touched Spock's skin above his collar so that Spock would feel his sincerity.

 

He wasn't prepared for what he got in return - surprise, pleasure, and … anger? Jim dropped his hand as soon as he realized Spock was angry at _him_. Reinstating his mental shields, he forced a smile as he turned back to Nyota.

 

"Congratulations," he said again, and then, because he had to say something else to cover Spock's silence, he added, "When are you due?"

 

"June 22," she answered, and with a few other questions, Jim was able to keep her chattering while they finished their meals.

 

When the bill came, Jim grabbed it before his companions could.

 

"My treat," he said. "I have to get back, anyway."

 

Jim tapped his credit chip on the restaurant's padd to authorize the payment, then smiled at Nyota. "No more beer for you on poker night for a while."

 

She laughed, and Jim took that as a good sign. "See you later," he told her. Then, "Spock."

 

Spock barely nodded, and Jim kept his smile in place while he thanked the restaurant staff and squirmed through the crowd to emerge once again onto Kearney Street.

 

He let the smile slip, then, while he turned away from the route Spock and Nyota would take to get back to the Admiralty, and strode around the nearest corner before blowing out a breath.

 

Spock - angry? It didn't make sense. Jim knew Spock was capable of it - had known almost from the moment they'd met - but what reason could Spock have to be angry now? And at Jim?

 

The answer slammed into him at warp one, and he stumbled back until he rested against the storefront he'd stopped beside.

 

Spock was angry at him because it was his child Nyota carried, not Spock's own. That they'd agreed to it because of biological necessity didn't matter in this moment. What mattered was the anger. Jim had been on the receiving end of Spock's anger before and nearly died as a result. Spock would get over it - once he admitted that he felt it at all - but until then, then best thing Jim could do was avoid him.

 

Jim swallowed and pulled out his communicator.

 

Admiral Christopher Pike answered almost before the call went completely through. Jim couldn't help a twitch of his lips. Pike's efficiency and effectiveness were legendary within Starfleet, but Jim hadn't expected the same efficiency for a call.

 

"Jim," Pike said. "Or is it Captain?" It was an old shortcut between them - was the call personal or business?

 

"Mostly Captain, some Jim," Jim replied.

 

"What is it, Captain?" Pike asked.

 

"Is there a short run I can take to get off Earth for a few months? I'm done with debriefing, and Spock can oversee the refit of _Enterprise_ as well as I can. Maybe a training cruise for some cadets?"

 

"Your communicator must be faulty," Pike said. "I thought I heard James T. Kirk volunteer for a milk run."

 

"Funny, sir. Do you have anything?"

 

There was a brief silence, followed by, "As it happens, Captain Rogers is scheduled for a six-month practical cruise for the top junior and senior cadets. Supply run out to New Vulcan, followed by stops on Tellar and Andor."

 

"Sounds perfect," Jim said. "When does it leave?"

 

"Not so fast. I still have to clear it with Command, not to mention give Rogers the courtesy of letting him know he's being bumped."

 

Jim sighed silently at the delay, but there was nothing he could do about it. He almost missed Pike's question.

 

"What's got you in a hurry to get off Earth for a while?"

 

"That's the Jim part of it. Nothing to worry about," he added quickly. "Just … it's personal."

 

"Personal," Pike repeated.

 

Jim didn't fill the silence that followed, and eventually he heard Pike's quiet sigh. "Fine. I'll call you back when I have an update."

 

"Thank you, sir. I owe you one."

 

"Jim." Pike's tone now was sober, and it caught Jim's attention. "We all owe you for Nero, and for Khan, and for Krall. If getting a milk run is all you ever use your fame - yes, fame, don't argue - for, we owe you even more."


	5. Chapter 5

Six months later, Jim stepped off the USS _Cochrane_ to see Spock waiting for him. He nodded at his _t'hy'la_ , but was delayed as he bid farewell to the cadets and junior officers he'd so briefly commanded.

 

Spock waited patiently, and spoke first when Jim finally joined him.

 

"Welcome back, Captain," Spock said. Jim knew he was being formal because they were in public. "I trust the cadets and junior officers performed adequately."

 

"Better than anyone had a right to expect," Jim said, "under the circumstances."

 

"It is strange that a training cruise should have involved a conflict with the Klingons."

 

Jim grinned at the dry observation. "You'll have to ask Starfleet Intelligence how a Klingon cruiser got that deep into Federation space without anyone knowing. Still, there's nothing like a little conflict to bring out the best - or the worst - in people."

 

"Indeed."

 

Jim didn't need their bond to know that Spock was remembering their own first adventure together - the day Vulcan had been destroyed - and the silence between them should have been awkward, but somehow wasn't. Spock turned and, the ease of long habit returning, Jim fell into step with him as they made their way toward the shuttle that would take them to Earth.

 

"How're Nyota and the baby?" Jim asked.

 

"Her pregnancy proceeds within normal human parameters," Spock replied. "Including, I am told, her otherwise inexplicable craving for double chocolate chai mocha ice cream, garnished with caramel and salt."

 

Jim couldn't help laughing at that. "I should apologize to her for that."

 

"I was not aware that such cravings require an apology."

 

"Maybe they don't. But, Spock -" Jim rested a hand on Spock's elbow, guiding them toward the wall and out of the flow of traffic. "I do owe you an apology."

 

"No, Captain - Jim. It is I who should apologize to you."

 

"You had every right to be angry."

 

"I had no right. To be angry for achieving a goal - something Nyota had described as her dream - is illogical. To be angry with my _t'hy'la_ is even more illogical, because to be angry with you is to be angry with myself. I apologize, Jim."

 

Though they weren't touching skin to skin, Jim felt Spock's sincerity through their bond. He squeezed Spock's elbow and could do no less than match the other man's sincerity when he spoke again.

 

"I shouldn't have run away. I did that most of my life, and thought I'd broken the habit. But you being angry with me was the thing I couldn't face, so I didn't. I ran away instead, and I apologize."

 

Spock didn't respond verbally. Instead, he shifted his hand - the one closest to the wall, half-hidden by their bodies - so that his fingertips rested along the back of Jim's corresponding hand. Through the stronger contact, Jim felt Spock's mental shields lowering, and he could only lower his in return.

 

It was strange to have such an intimate exchange in a public place, even if that exchange took place within the privacy of their bond. It was completed quickly, with the speed of thought. Spock let his hand drop.

 

Jim met his gaze. "I won't run away again."

 

Spock returned it. "I shall attempt to convey my … reactions more clearly."

 

Jim nodded as they resumed their walk toward the shuttle. "And if you can't, at least don't send Keenser and Kevin after me."

 

*

 

When Nyota returned home, she was surprised to be greeted by the scent of something rich and savory. She slipped off her shoes as the door slid shut behind her and started toward the kitchen.

 

"Are you actually cooking, Spock?"

 

"I'm not Spock," came the reply in a cheerful tenor she hadn't heard in more than half a year. "But I am cooking."

 

The figure that filled the doorway to the kitchen made her stare for a long moment before she could even smile, let alone rush toward him.

 

Well, _rush_ was the wrong word. An eight-months-along pregnant woman couldn't rush much. But still, Nyota started across the couple of meters separating them only to be met in the middle and gathered into a bear hug.

 

"I'm so glad you're back."

 

"I wouldn't have missed this for anything," Jim assured her.

 

"You and Spock?"

 

"Stupid misunderstanding. You'd think a telepathic bond would prevent those."

 

Nyota chuckled into his chest. "I know how stubborn you both are, remember? Nothing's going to prevent those misunderstandings when you've made your minds up."

 

Jim laughed. "There is that." Then he sobered. "How's the baby? Spock said you're both within normal human parameters, but -"

 

"But that says nothing under the guise of saying everything," she finished. "Strong and healthy, and kicking like a mule. Here, feel."

 

She shifted away from him but not out of his arms, and grabbed one hand to place it flat over the place where the baby had started kicking the moment Jim's arms came around her.

 

Jim splayed his hand wide against her belly. "I know what that is - all the biology," he said softly. "And it's still magical, like it's never happened before."

 

"It hasn't happened to either of us before," Nyota said, and her arch humor made him smile.

 

For long seconds, they stood there. "Kicks a lot, does he?"

 

"Since you started hugging me. I don't know whether he doesn't like the pressure of the hug, or he's somehow recognizing you."

 

"Probably both." Jim blew out a breath and stepped away from her. "I hope you like beef stew."

 

"Love it," Nyota said. "But Spock -"

 

"I used vegetable stock and set some aside before I put the beef in. I'm making a salad, and there's good San Francisco sourdough bread, too." He turned away and stepped back into the kitchen.

 

Nyota followed, pausing just inside the doorway, out of his way, and rubbing at her lower back. She'd enjoyed her pregnancy so far, except for the odd cravings, but the low back pain was a constant companion she didn't need.

 

"What's wrong, Jim?" she asked, watching as he cut up vegetables for the salad.

 

"Nothing's wrong."

 

"I've seen you bullshit more alien diplomats and Starfleet admirals than anyone except maybe Spock. Don't bullshit me."

 

"I'm not." He glanced up at her for a moment before turning back to the cutting board. "Not really."

 

"So what's not really wrong?"

 

"Just - this." He gestured with the knife to include the kitchen and herself and, by extension, the entire situation. "It's not mine, and I know it - hell, I don't even _want_ it most of the time. Just sometimes, every now and again, I like it more than I should."

 

"That's why you left," Nyota said slowly as realization dawned. "So you wouldn't like it too much."

 

"Partly." Jim tossed the vegetables in a bowl and tossed then with a dressing he'd apparently also made, judging by the absence of any branded bottles on the counter. "I had to get clear on it, on us - all the combinations of us."

 

"Did you?"

 

"Yeah. At least until the next stupid misunderstanding."

 

Jim was grinning as he said it, and Nyota laughed. "So, tomorrow."

 

"Hopefully a little longer than that."


	6. Chapter 6

Jim strode into the lecture hall five minutes before the first meeting of his seminar in Starship Tactics. The series of lectures to a class of selected command track students was going to be challenging - for his students and, if he was fortunate, for him, too.

 

He ignored the murmurs from the students - twenty beings, all chosen by their instructors for their command aptitude - as he took his place at the lectern and connected his padd to the classroom viewsystem. Judging by the shocked expressions he glimpsed when he looked up to confirm the playback, they hadn't been told who their instructor would be.

 

Jim gave an internal sigh. This many years after the blast of publicity surrounding the Nero incident, he'd hoped his face wasn't quite as recognizable as it had been then. But it hadn't just been the Nero incident - there'd also been Khan and Krall, and Starfleet's PR people would probably never get tired of the saga of the Kirk family. Not for the first time, Jim envied his mom's reversion to her maiden name.

 

The tone sounded for the top of the hour, and Jim looked up. "Good morning. First on the agenda is returning all those copies of _Fleet Tactics and Planetary Battles_ they told you to buy. You won't need them. Yes, Cadet -?"

 

"Bronstein, sir," the dark-skinned man replied. " _Fleet Tactics_ is the classic, and has been since the first classical edition printed by the United States Navy that dealt with ocean battles."

 

Jim waited a moment, but when Cadet Bronstein didn't speak further, he said, "I am aware of that. Was there supposed to be a question in there somewhere?"

 

Bronstein probably flushed - his dark skin made it difficult to tell from a distance - but lifted his chin and asked, "Why are we getting rid of them?"

 

"Because this seminar isn't about classical theories. It's about real-world applications." Jim watched his students shift uneasily, uncomfortable with what he'd said. " _Fleet Tactics_ is an excellent framework, no question, and you'll get a thorough grounding in it from your other instructors. We're going to look at the times when staying within that framework could get you or your crew killed."

 

Jim surveyed the class, and when there were no more questions, he said, "Pop quiz - who's the only person to have two starships named for him that are currently in service?"

 

He hid amusement as he watched the panicked expressions spread through the class. Finally, an Orion girl in the back of the class raised her hand. "Cochrane?"

 

"Right," Jim said. "But not the one you're thinking of. The USS _Cochrane_ is in service as an Academy training ship - some of you might get to fly her before you graduate. And the USS _Dundonald_ is a cutter currently stationed near the Laurentian system. Both are named for Thomas Cochrane, the Tenth Earl of Dundonald in the old United Kingdom. He served in four different Terran navies, but it's his time and tactics as captain of the sloop _Speedy_ that we're going to start with."

 

After Jim's overview of Cochrane's achievements, he led the class in a discussion of how Cochrane's tactics on a two-dimensional ocean could be adapted to three-dimensional space, and then realized how talented these students really were. The discussion could have continued all day, but the topics of the seminar required Jim to cut it short after an hour to focus on a contemporary of Cochrane's.

 

"You should all know who Horatio Nelson was," Jim said. "But in case your memory needs refreshing, we're going to cover his tactics at his final battle, commanding the _Victory_ at the Battle of Trafalgar."

 

Like the discussion of Cochrane, the discussion of Nelson took on a life of its own, and despite his general dislike of classrooms, Jim was glad he'd chosen to teach this seminar.

 

A flicker of emotion through his bond with Spock distracted him from a heated debate - Bronstein had turned, half-rising from his seat, to face the Orion girl and gesture wildly as he talked about how to implement ship-of-the-line tactics in three dimensions - and Jim tuned them out to focus on Spock.

 

Spock felt - anxious, Jim decided. Anxious and a little concerned.

 

What might have caused - oh. Officially, Nyota wasn't due until next week, but even in the twenty-third century, babies came when they darn well pleased. Their son had decided to come now.

 

A glance at the time told Jim he could probably finish this lecture before he became officially a godfather/uncle and unofficially a father.

 

"Captain?"

 

Jim looked up to see his students looking at him quizzically, and realized he'd missed something important. He gave them the grin that always pissed off the Admiralty. "What was the question?"

 

Ten minutes later, he gave them their assignment - put Cochrane or Nelson in command of the _Enterprise_ and analyze the effectiveness of their probable tactics against the _Narada_. He could see the reluctance in their expressions, but refused to compromise. He'd survived that attack, and he would survive whatever they came up with in response to the assignment.

 

"Sir." Bronstein approached the lectern as Jim disconnected his padd from the auditorium's system. "I'm wondering -"

 

"Send me a message," Jim said, keeping his tone friendly rather than brusque. "I don't mean to be rude, but my bond-brother's wife has just gone into labor."

 

Bronstein went wide-eyed. "Of course, sir."

 

"Thanks for understanding." Jim clapped him on the shoulder, then headed for the door at a pace just shy of a full run.

 

*

 

When Jim arrived at Starfleet Medical, he made his way to the neonatal waiting room and scanned it. There were several beings waiting, none of them Vulcan.

 

Frowning, he crossed to the information station and spoke into it. "James T. Kirk, inquiring about Nyota Uhura."

 

After a pause, a mechanical voice responded. "Please be seated. Someone will be with you momentarily."

 

Jim bit back a curse as he turned away from the station and paced toward the single window. He'd thought - expected - believed - that he'd be allowed full access to the neonatal suite, along with Spock. Apparently, he'd been wrong.

 

He kept his mental shields up as he breathed silently in and out, controlling his disappointment so it wouldn't bleed through his bond. Spock wouldn't want to be bothered by Jim's negative emotions, not at a time like this. But Jim would have to have a long talk with him later.

 

"Jim."

 

Even with just a single syllable, there was no mistaking that Southern drawl. Jim turned to see Bones McCoy standing in a doorway on the far side of the information station.

 

Jim crossed the waiting area quickly. "What're you doing here, Bones? I didn't think you were her treating physician."

 

Bones snorted. "D'you know how long it's been since I did my obstetrics rotation? Hell, no, I'm not her treating physician - but I am a physician, and her friend. I've been here the whole time."

 

"How is she?" Jim asked as Bones led him through the doorway and down a long corridor.

 

"Mama and baby are doing fine."

 

Jim's steps faltered. "Mama and baby? But it's been barely half an hour since Spock let me know she was in labor."

 

"Apparently, easy deliveries run in her family," Bones replied. "They barely got in the doors before - well. Let's just say it could've been a lot messier than it was."

 

"But they're okay?" Jim pressed, somehow still needing the reassurance from his friend even though he'd lowered his shields when Bones appeared and wasn't feeling anything untoward from Spock.

 

"See for yourself." Bones paused at a door and gestured Jim inside.

 

Jim gave Bones a quick grin before turning to look into the room where they'd stopped.

 

Nyota smiled at him tiredly from the biobed where she held an impossibly tiny, blanket-wrapped bundle against her chest. "Hi, Jim."

 

Spock's greeting was his off-duty usual, "Jim."

 

"Don't just stand there," Nyota said. "Come and see your son."

 

"Godson," Jim corrected. "He's your and Spock's son."

 

Jim accepted the babe from her, cradled him against his chest.

 

"Welcome to the world, little one," Jim murmured before looking back at the proud parents when he realized he didn't know one basic bit of information. "What are you naming him?"

 

Nyota glanced at Spock, and if Jim didn't know she was psi-null, he would've thought they were communicating telepathically.

 

"We thought to name him for my mother," Spock said. "And … one other, equally important to us all."

 

"Grayson George," Nyota said softly.

 

Jim could only stare at them as the name sank in, his emotions a tangle of pride at their choice and some instinctive refusal that he couldn't immediately explain.

 

He was silent too long, apparently, because Nyota frowned. "Jim?"

 

At the same time, Spock said, "We understood that it is an honor to name a child for someone -"

 

"No, no," Jim broke in quickly. "I mean, yes, it is an honor, and I couldn't be more proud that you chose to name your son for my father."

 

"But?" Nyota prompted.

 

Jim looked back down at the face of the tiny human he held, surprised when he found himself looking into eyes as blue as his own.

 

"Hey, little guy," he murmured. "Hadn't thought about what your eyes might look like."

 

But he was stalling, and he knew it - and he could feel that Spock knew it, and if Spock knew it, then Nyota did, too. He forced himself to look at them in turn.

 

"I just - I don't think it's right to put the weight of that name on anyone." Jim looked down at their son - his son - his godson, and spoke more to the baby than to the adults. "He's going to make his own destiny, and that shouldn't be clouded by expectations anyone has of him. So please, no George, and no James."

 

He glanced toward Nyota with a grin. "Tiberius, though -"

 

"I'm sure your grandfather would like that," Nyota said, "but no."

 

"Do you have a suggestion for a name, Jim?" Spock asked.

 

"I don't have the right -"

 

"Jim." Spock's gentle admonishment carried more through their bond than through his tone of voice. Of course.

 

"Well." Jim considered that for a moment. "If you're determined to name him for people important to you, how about Leonard?"

 

He felt Spock's surprise through the bond, saw it reflected in Nyota's expression, and grinned as he handed the baby back to her.

 

Nyota cradled her son close. "Welcome to the world, Grayson Leonard S'chn T'gai Uhura."

 


End file.
